


Siri Black's Sad Sack Gay Pining Mix [Followers: 2]

by Barry_Manilows_Wardrobe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bars and Pubs, Basically, F/M, Idiots in Love, Musical References, Mutual Pining, Playlist, Sirius Black Fest, Sirius Black Fest 2020, Tattoos, This is a love song, Trans Female Character, to new york
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27220537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barry_Manilows_Wardrobe/pseuds/Barry_Manilows_Wardrobe
Summary: Siri Black (28): Femme co-owner of the Midtown bar The Black Shuck; TimeOut NYC’s “queen of aural sex for the New York bar scene”; 2020 Spotify award shortlist for “Most Played Playlist”Remus Lupin (27): Owner of the RJL tattoo parlor (New York City); Inked Magazine’s “Top Five Hidden Gems for the ink collector”Siri Black’s Famous Spotify Playlists (Followers: 908k): the means by which Siri Black intends to woo Remus LupinJK Rowling: the villain of our story
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 9
Kudos: 20
Collections: Sirius Black Fest 2020





	Siri Black's Sad Sack Gay Pining Mix [Followers: 2]

_Our Players:_

**Siri Black (28)** : Femme co-owner of the Midtown bar The Black Shuck (with James Potter and Peter Pettigrew); TimeOut NYC’s _“queen of aural sex for the New York bar scene”;_ 2020 Spotify award shortlist for “Most Played Playlist”

 **Remus Lupin (27)** : Owner of the RJL tattoo parlor (New York City); Inked Magazine’s “Top Five Hidden Gems for the ink collector”

 **Siri Black’s Famous Spotify Playlists** (Followers: 908k): the means by which Siri Black intends to woo Remus Lupin

 **JK Rowling** , the villain of our story

  
  


The LES in Summer was awful. Animal piss and garbage and the exhaust from SUVs that braved four blocks an hour. Hundreds of bodies trying to occupy the same space and the four square feet of greenspace that the City could allow.

Siri loved it.

Propped up against the brickwork of the Bowery, right foot against the wall and phone in hand, she tried to catch the fiction of a breeze. Which was just not happening. Potter was half a block down on the phone with his sitter. Evans and Petey had gone to the nearest bodega for water. 

The second DJ spinning inside and fries in the very near future, Siri’s work here was done. Another Thursday night Me/Mix in the can, ears still ringing from the playlist Siri had spent the week on. Still wound up, there was no way she would be able to fall asleep. 

“Hey,” Remus said, coming out of the venue in a button-down and jeans, scuffed purple converse missing the mystery puddles in the street. He came close enough to bracket her with his arms, the only skin showing. 

“Hey,” she smiled, sliding her phone into her back pocket before bringing her right arm to his waist. “Aren’t you hot?”

“I guess?” He leaned forward to nose the sweat on her own neck, tongue following after. “Maybe I’m just used to it?” Said the Canadian transplant to the fifth-generation New Yorker.

“Hrm.” She kissed him, leaving the traces of her Rosemantic matte on his lips. 

“Oh, what’s that?” He said, looking over her right shoulder and towards the ground. 

“Hrm?”

Left hand on her hip, he bent down and reached for something near his shoe before slowly standing up. Remus opened his palm and there was a ring: size 7, black titanium studded with black diamond chips. Somehow, she had managed to keep the hour of foundation, powder, shadow, more shadow, even more shadow, liner, and mascara all night. It was a lost cause now.

He looked like he was going to get down on his knee. She grabbed his tie. “You’ll ruin your pants.”

“Siri, would you do me the honor of celebrating the Marriage Equality Act at the date of your choosing?”

“Yes. Fuck yes.” They dropped the ring and Siri had to use the light on her phone to find it again. Remus wiped it on his shirt and it fit. Maybe a little too large, but that could be fixed.

Rosemantic matte ended up everywhere.

“Hey!” Evans yelled from the end of the block, waterless. “Did you ask her yet? I really have to pee.”

**[That fucking Smash Mouth Mix, Followers: 14k]**

Roberta Flack was playing on the tired PA at the place near Brooklyn Battery with the popcorn maker the first time Siri Black saw Remus Lupin. 

_The first time ever I saw your face I thought the sun rose in your eyes_

Siri, who had given the place quite a lot of custom through the years, could not conceive of how this song - _this song_ \- would show up on a playlist with Mr Brightside and Dancing Queen. She had put the mix together for her ex, Marlene, with the worst songs on it on purpose. There were _four_ versions of Smash Mouth's All Star. Siri would never have wasted Roberta Flack on that bar near Brooklyn Battery with the popcorn maker. 

It had to be fate, she told Marlene. But mostly her bottle of IPA because it was too fucking loud for a Thursday. Marlene’s breasts preempted her face as she leaned over to ask, “Are we going to hit Petey’s after?” These were pre-breakup Petey days, when he was still dating the girl from the DA’s office and had a hook-up with ‘a guy’ with great weed. They had just got the keys on the bar-yet-to-be-named (later, the Black Shuck) and months of labor lay before her. Still on the good side of 30 with the stamina for 3 AM bar closings she would still be able to function on two hours of sleep. With a lot of cover-up.

Finally, the song cycled to Hall and Oates who couldn’t go for that, and Siri’s opening salvo was: “Aren’t you the guy who lives over my bar?” Because, whump, she could not be trusted with words.

Remus was one of those guys that could swing either way: he was either incredibly hot or just a guy. He was also not prepared for 6’1” of Siri Black to unleash awkward on him at 2 AM, but went with it. “Hey.”

In those days, Siri still thought she showed best in low lights with a large scarf. So the place near Brooklyn Battery with the popcorn maker was a favorite. “I’m Siri. Siri Black.”

“Uh. Lupin. Remus Lupin.” He put out his hand and she took it. Firm handshake, dry hands. “You have nice skin.”

Ok, he was a serial killer. Siri could work with that.

“I mean.” He paused. “I’m a tattoo artist. Yours would be great to work on.” He was so earnest, taking a soda and lime from Marlene and half-smiling. Siri was just working her tongue around asking why he was at a bar at 2 AM if he wasn’t drinking when a woman came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck. 

Well.

“Moony!” Later, Siri would ID her as: Natalie Lupin, illegal licensee, and Remus’ sister. At the time, she was a really pretty brunette hanging off Siri’s fated love. “My ride!” 

**[black shuck intro, Followers: 118k]**

The second time Siri met Remus was the day they opened the doors of Black Shuck. Brandy was being a fine girl and Siri, for some unfathomable reason, had a bandana on her head.

 _He came on a summer's day bringing gifts from far away_

“Hey. I brought something for opening day.” He had something wrapped in Christmas paper. “I wasn’t sure what the occasion called for, but--” He set it on the bar and slid it closer to her. Siri hadn’t seen her serial killer in almost two months. 

“You didn’t have to.” She opened the gift which turned out to be one of those novelty 2’ wine bottles. She laughed. “This is… actually perfect.”

“I’m covertly establishing neighborly communications. So I can get a cup of sugar from you at odd hours.” Half-smiling Remus Lupin tipped him from just a guy to super fucking hot. 

“Would a soda and lime suffice?” As the words came out, she realized that remembering what the guy ordered two months ago was probably weird. 

“That would be great.” 

The place was only medium-light busy, it would take a bit for it to gain traction, so Siri was able to talk to him. She was thankful for choosing the grey sweater that hung over her right shoulder and showed off a lace bra strap. He was a tattoo artist. He’d lived over the Murphy (now Black Shuck) for about four years after coming to NYC for an arts degree he didn’t finish. 

Siri wouldn’t take his money. “It’s part of covert neighborly communication,” she teased instead. He bit his lower lip and she quickly added, “I’ll put it on your tab.”

  
  


**[someone else too many times, Followers: 14.6k]**

Remus was irregular. One day he blew in in a black sweater and tie. His jeans were rolled up and he was wearing argyle socks. It was, yeah. “Hey. I’m on my way out, but what was that song you played about… twenty minutes ago?”

She tipped her head. “I need more info than that.”

“Okay, there was definitely sexy sax,” the laugh that came out of her mouth was completely unexpected. “And I remember: _I hope you know I mean it when I tell you you're on my mind_.” 

Siri choked on the rum and coke a patron had bought her, nearly swallowing the straw. 

“Are you okay?” Remus leaned over the bar with a handful of napkins. 

“I’m...good,” she wiped away the rest of the Fenty Stunna lipstick she’d been progressively biting off all night. She held up a finger before she caught her breath. “Just went down the wrong...way.”

Balanced on his forearms on the bar, Remus was close enough that Siri saw that his eyes were very light brown. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Oh this?” She crumpled up the napkin and threw it into the trash. “One of the hazards of owning a bar.”

“So about that song…” Before he repeated the lyrics, she grabbed one of the pens for card slips and wrote on a napkin: _Weeknd In your eyes._ He waited to pick it up for a beat longer than necessary and then took it. “Thanks. See you.”

  
  


**[Siri Black’s Sad Sack Gay Pining Mix, Followers: 0]**

When Remus came in in glasses, Siri’s soul went out of her body. 

She always covered the 11-something on Sundays. The something being the point when Marlene (who they’d ruthlessly stolen from that place near Brooklyn Battery with the popcorn maker) came in and Potter rolled off the Island in his dad shirts and Haz. On Sundays, Potter and Lily went for dinner and a movie while Haz and Siri fucked around in the City. If the weather was good, they caught movies in the park. Dollar theater if it was bad. Haz liked to run around Central Park and Siri, who wouldn’t be caught dead in trainers, would run after in heels. It was one of her magic talents. Sometimes, they’d go to draw Miz Giddy Up (alias Gideon Prewett) at a burlesque sketch-in because Gid was Haz’s favorite Prewett.

So it was one of those Sunday AMs, when Siri had completely (emo) control of the speakers, that Remus Lupin came in in glasses. The clear kind that Geoffrey Zakarian wore on Chopped (Siri + Geoffrey Zakarian = 4Ever). It really was too much.

The time Siri said, “Hey, papi.” And then died. Why did she even exist?

Remus laughed and that was _not awkward_ at all. “I bought too many donuts and wondered if you wanted any.” They weren’t just any donuts. They were vegan pistachio cardamom donuts and...

“Holy shit, I would shank my mom for this.” Honestly, she would do it for nothing.

He looked down at his own donut as if verifying the quality of the confection. Angel Olsen clicked on.

_I ain't hanging up this time I ain't giving up tonight_

He tilted his head, listening to the music. “Oh, what is this?” 

“Shut up kiss me.” They sort of stared at each other while Siri died inside. Thanking every sad dollar she’d thrown at Lancome for keeping her blush under wraps. “I, uh, er, do you want some coffee? I mean, you brought the donuts.” Why? It would take at least a half-hour for her to get coffee together. Thirty minutes of whatever awkward this is.

“Uh,” Remus stood up suddenly, a hand in his hair. “I should probably get going. Um, work…”

“Yeah. Me, too.” 

It was a pitiful Siri who let Haz convince her to get ice cream that afternoon. “Ob la di, ob-la-daaaaaa, life goes on, **bra** ,” he put extra emphasis on the bra, “La-laaaaaaa life goes on, **bra**.” Haz loved songs with nonsense syllables. 

Siri’s life was just...nonsense. But with extra chocolate sprinkles.

  
  
  


**[Because Someone Changed my Spotify Password Followers: 3]**

Remus didn’t come in for a few weeks and everyone was getting tired of her the Sad Sack Gay Pining Mix. Regulars were asking if someone had died or actively doing so. “Only on the inside,” Lily said quiet and menacing. 

“But why did I _say_ that?” 

“As I’ve been forced to study this topic for three weeks, I seem to recall a memory from conversation 394 where you just stood there when he was obviously waiting for you to kiss him. Your having said - and I quote - _shut up and kiss me._ ”

“You seeing someone?” Petey asked, perplexed. “No one tells me anything.” Post-DA girlfriend break-up, he’d moved back to Queens. Siri had to be very drunk to go to Queens.

“I’m _not_ ,” she said with great emotion. Siri said everything with great emotion. But this time, Remus had come up to the bar. She knew too many bottles covering the glass behind the counter was a safety hazard. A heart safety hazard.

“Did you break up with someone?” He was in rolled-up shirtsleeves that hinted at the art underneath. Mysteriously, both Lily and Petey had disappeared.

_So I cry and I pray, and I beg for you to love me, love me_

Eloquent as always, she managed “I..uh..the music, right?” 

“For what it’s worth, that sucks.” He played with the edge of a Guinness branded coaster. “How are you holding up?” 

“Fine,” she said in a tight voice and then offered a slightly more normal, “Fine. I’m doing fine.” She’d just had her bangs cut short across and couldn’t use her hair to hide. 

He threaded the coaster between his fingers before suddenly saying, “Come and get a pick-me-up tattoo.” 

“Is that a thing?” It felt like it could be a thing for drunk spring breaks. Not for Siri who had nothing on her skin but a constellation of freckles just under her right breast.

“You’ve never heard?” He sounded offended, but he was smiling. “It’s all the rage back home.”   
  


**[we fell in love in October sort of vibe, Followers: 34k]**

Apparently, pick me up tattoos were a thing? 

The reason Remus paid $350 for a _two_ -bedroom over a bar in Midtown(ish) was a) holy shit, was this rent stabilized since the 1950s? And b) his shop was just a quick ride on the red line down to Bowery. They’d come directly from the Black Shuck - Lily mysteriously reappearing to relieve her - and Siri stood instead of letting her legs stick to the orange plastic in her corduroy mini. She was perfectly capable of keeping equilibrium in her mint green t-straps. 

She was a fifth generation New Yorker, thank you very much.

The shop was a walk-up that exited on a street with a CVS and a liquor shop next door. Nothing said this was a tattoo shop.

She stared at Remus’ ass the entire way up the death stairs. It was… It was something, yeah.

He popped the lock on a door with a wolf decal, “Let me get the lights.” It was bigger than it looked from the outside. A few chairs in an open space that looked out on the street through a huge window. It smelled like bleach and rubbing alcohol. It was very still until he turned on the air-conditioning.

“You could operate in here,” she said. “It’s nice.”

“Health codes, yeah?” He dropped the keys on the counter. 

“So how does this work?” 

“Well, you relax first. Why don’t you put on one of your mixes? And then we can talk, yeah?” He logged into a Macbook and let her mess around with. A second later, _I've been tryna call. I've been on my own for long enough._

Over Cherry Cokes (did they still make those?), he repeated his sales pitch from the Black Shuck. Siri chose where it went, he got a feel for the area, and then drew up what he thought would fit there. “So I know I sort of steam-rolled you, so you can make a suggestion if you want.”

“No. I’m good with whatever.” 

She decided to go with her back. Somewhere no one would see it unless she wanted them to. Covering all no-go areas for someone she wasn’t sure about. She laid face down on one of the chairs, shirt and bra hanging loose, while he drew something up. 

It was… wow. “Do you want to talk about it?” he said over the buzz of the gun. “I mean, it’s cool if you don’t want to… sorry,” he added. “I’m really bad at this small talk thing.”

“You probably shouldn’t lead with the serious stuff,” she laughed. “Don’t you talk to your clients when you’re giving them a tattoo?”

His hand pressed down on her back. “Not really. I get talked to, but I never know what to say. Especially if you’re inking someone for hours.”

“Do you want me to talk to you?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s going to come back to bite your ass. I’m a natural born chatterbox and a bartender. I have a _lot_ of stories.” 

“I don’t mind when it’s you.” Pause. Yeah. What? He didn’t elaborate and Siri let it slide. Because no way. Siri wasn’t the type of person who had crushes reciprocated. 

“Oh-kay. So this guy came into the bar…” she went from Leprechaun mayhem to the time a celeb came in and like, it’s NY code to not acknowledge them. But tourists didn’t get it. 

She told him about Moody, a regular, who came in everyday for one (often two or three) fingers of whiskey before hitting the subway to Brooklyn. He was an electrician for the MTA who, if was to believed, had lost his eye during the Disaster of ‘63. No one knew what the Disaster of ‘63 was but the fake eye scared the shit out of the sailors during Fleet Week, so everyone went with it. “Honest to god, the kid couldn’t have been more than nineteen and he’s all the shit because his sailor friends are there and he’s in _New York City_ . ‘ _Do I look like I can be intimidated?_ ’ And I shit you not, Moody’s eye looks at him before he does. He doesn’t even put his drink down. ‘ _Yes, I'd have to say you do_.’” They had taken a break, Siri working on a glass of water. “I have never seen anyone leave so quickly.”

When they were back at it and Siri looking away, she said, “I haven’t -- I’m waiting.” He didn’t say anything, but she could tell that he was listening. “For this thing, er, _person_ , yeah?” She wasn’t sure if she meant Remus or herself. Maybe a little of both.

“You’ll get it,” Remus said with authority. “When you’re ready.”

If Siri smiled into the table, no one saw it but her.

  
  
  


**[How long do I have to wait for you? Followers: 451k]**

In the time between tattoo and wrapping removal Siri had: painted her nails sixteen times, burned chocolate chip cookies with Haz (they scraped them off the sheet), visited the Met four times, and upgraded from a roommate thing in Harlem to a third floor walk-up in Long Island City. So, _technically_ , it was Queens. But you could see the City over the East River. A fridge in the living room was a bonus, right?

_100 days, 100 nights to know a man's heart_

Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings got her through the morning. Rolling out of the four poster that took up 90% of her room and business done, she zombie crawled to the efficiency kitchen. To the coffee pot. In the last few days Siri had realized that “yeah, I can live with a half-size sink” was actually more like “how the fuck do I fill this normal size pot with water.” The bathtub (yeah, bathtub!) pulled double duty. 

There was nothing to eat in the apartment and even Siri couldn’t live on coffee alone. She scraped herself into a pair of high-rise jeans and a sweater to grab croissants from a bakery down the block, hitting an atm on the way back. She paused on the corner to make a notation in her Notes app in Siri Black shorthand:

_Everything Everything? Papi FKA; Sextape; Chet faker?_

“Okay, pussy,” Evans said later, squished in the pink and black tiled bathroom. “Are we going to do this or what?” 

Siri took a hard breath. “Okay. But be realllllly slow, okay? What if my skin comes off? I think I was supposed to take this off sooner, but…”

“You do know you’re Dawn of the Dead back here, right?”

“Oh my god, seriously?” She tried to look over her shoulder. “But it doesn’t hurt, so that’s okay, right?” 

“You should get him over here to pick his brains. It’ll be some serious zombie love thing.”

Siri groaned. “Potter’s dad jokes have been rubbing off on you.”

“That’s not the only thing--”

“TMI! TMI!” Siri covered her ears while Evans laughed. 

“Maybe that’s why you make decent playlists,” Evans said leadingly, “ _Dead_ ication.” Because she was awful, but kind of awesome, Evans got James on speakerphone and they dad-joked while Evans pulled off the saniderm.

  
  
  


**[Potter and I are so hungover, Followers: 102]**

“I saw yer boy on TV.”

“Yeah?” Siri only wore sweats in the privacy of her own tiny apartment. Only four people had ever witnessed the rare phenomena and three of them had the surname of Potter. This time it was Potter to binge on Indian and the Great British Bake Off after Gideon Prewett’s bachelor party the night before. She knew she was lying if she swore to never drink again, but she _thought_ it.

“Yeah. He’s like...maybe a famous tattoo guy?” Potter, a Cronenberg masterpiece, had become one with his phone and called up Remus Lupin on it. “He doesn’t have a wiki or website or anything, but he did a famous tattoo for this guy,” neither of them recognized the guy. “He has articles published about him and 4 million mentions on the Socials, et al,” he pronounced it just like that.

“Are we so old that we use the ‘the’? _The socials_.” Siri put it in finger quotes. “ _The_ Tik Tok. _The_ \--”

Not dissuaded, he continued, “And a page on _the_ IMBD. He does stuff for movies including this,” Potter pushed the phone in her face to show the picture from a popular crime J-drama. The actor was covered from head to toe in clouds and carps and demons. It was really beautiful. “I can’t believe he won’t do a tattoo for me.” Remus had offered to put him on the books for two years out - the soonest appointment - and he was still salty about it.

“Do you even _want_ a tattoo?” Siri reached over to finish his mango lassi. “I bet you would get Haz’s face tattooed on your ass or something.”

“Excuse me. _You_ go on my ass. Haz goes over my heart.”

“You’re so sweet,” Siri fluttered her eyes at him. She may be in sweats, but she still had mascara and lipstick on. “Are you going to get Evans on your dick?”

“I mean. How do you think we had Haz?”

“That is soooo gross.” As covertly as possible, she called up her battered mobile.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“Texting your wife.” Siri narrated, “ _Dear Evans_. _Your sap-ass husband wants to put your name on his dick_.”

“Noooo!!” Potter reached for the phone, Siri turning left to avoid him. They sprayed mango lassi and blankets as they wrestled for control. Jamie had about thirty pounds on her - and evil cunning - so yelled, “Oh, Geoffrey Zacharian!” When she peeked up at the TV, he used his weight to hold her down while taking the phone. Siri laughed as Potter read, _Dear Evans. Your sap-ass husband loves you very much._ “You are the worst sister ever.”

“Ha. Like you have anything to compare me to.”

Still in possession of her phone, he said, “Oh. Is this Mr Lupin’s phone number?”

“Don’t you fucking dare!”

  
  
  


**[Too many white lies and white lines, Followers 412K]**

As it happened, she had Remus’ phone number. He’d asked her to keep him updated on the state of her tattoo as he was headed out to LA for a month. “It looks good,” he’d said, her shirt rucked up to her armpits as he inspected it in the Black Shuck’s backroom. She had performed her best magic trick - pulling her bra out from her sleeve - to let him look at it completely.

It had been a couple of weeks and he still kept tabs on it. Siri didn’t realize it took so long to heal. It itched, but nothing she couldn’t handle. He turned around while she put herself together.

“We should finish it in a couple of months,” he said, back still to her. “I have some ideas.” Siri wished those ideas had something to do with mattresses. But Remus played his cards close to his chest. 

Remus was not a texter and Siri sort of followed the precedent of textees. 

She was feeling a little synthwave that night, a bachelorette party in the backroom and pre-closing kisses to be had. Daft Punk, Gorillaz, and Kavinsky. 

_I want to drive you through the night, down the hills / I'm gonna tell you something you don't want to hear_

So she was pleased when her phone went off while she snuck a break in the alley. _The singer was definitely going to kill someone, right?_

 _Welcome home!_ Was the exclamation point too much? _Kavinsky. Nightcall_

_Can I order out a soda and lime? Am dead_

Heart=dead. _What is it worth to you?_ She back spaced, aware that the ….. was giving her away. _I’ll see what I can do._

She left a plastic bag with a two-liter of Sprite on his door. He left _!!!!!!!_ on their text convo.

  
  
  


**[toss a coin to Petey, Followers: 12k]**

Siri had been texting with Remus all night… as well as trolling Petey. _Are you trolling for tips? How many coins can we toss at the witcher?_

_Wouldn’t you like to know_

_Yes, I would_

“How much longer?” Petey asked.

“Do you concede defeat?”

“Never!” Said the bar and not Petey, who had ducked down to pull two bottles out of the fridge and sneak a couple ibuprofens. 

“I have like four-thousand covers of this song,” Siri said just before a metal version came on.

They made over $4k in tips that night. 

  
  


**[Siri Black’s Sad Sack Gay Pining Mix, Followers: 0]**

**[Evans wants to make out with julian casablancas in her garage, Followers: 14.5k]**

"How long are you going to have him work on that backpiece before you actually find the iron panties to ask him out?" So said Potter: friend, brother, and bringer-to-light of insecure places. 

Overhead, Crystal Castles cautioned that _La cocaina no es buena para su salud_. “He’s just so…” she stopped mid-thought.

“Into you.” Potter finished, opening another box. “I have no idea why. You’re such an ass-- _mass transit_.” He skittered for the save, because he was old and Haz was running around with a Lego spaceship that kept smashing into Potter’s ankles. The love of Haz’s life was Siri, so he just offered her animal crackers of unknown provenance. 

“Daddy, you said a bad word.” Not satisfied with loving Siri, he had also become the swear police in the last week. 

“Wow. Mass transit, eh?” Siri arched a brow. “That’s harsh.”

“You know what I meant.” 

“Truck off, daddy!” Siri shot back, dragging out the _daddy_. Potter went instantly into frowning “Dad Mode” which was adorable and familiar. He’d been practicing that particular look of disapproval since their first year at Stuyvesant. She took pity on him. “Haz, why don’t you beg a soda from Petey? Let’s see it.” Haz took a moment and then tears were hanging from his long lashes, lips trembling. Potter sighed as Siri swatted him out of the backroom.

“You are a terrible influence on the fruit of my loins.”

“Honestly, Potter, I don’t want _anything_ to do with your loins.”

“Who’s talking about _my_ loins?” Lily Evans said, blowing through the propped back door in black skinny jeans and bright red lipstick. She pushed her sunglasses to where they were holding the red bangs back. “Bae,” shoving her goods at Siri, she grabbed Potter’s crotch as he backed up on a yelp. “ _That_ excitement over, I have come to save you all from Siri’s Sad Sack Gay Pining Mix.” Unfortunately, the track rolled over to the Peachy! Mxmtoon’s collab Falling for you.

Caught. “Goddammit.”

“Flat white,” Evans handed it into her husband’s grabby hands. “Fifty shots of espresso to turn that frown upside down.” Siri took it from her frenemy with 51% gratitude topping the 49% of vengefulness. “I’m taking this out to Petey. No crying sad gay tears while I’m gone.”

She swung out of the back with purpose. A purpose that involved switching the mix from Siri’ Sad Sack Gay Pining Mix to garage revival. Lily was soft for the Strokes and Slater-Kinney. “Your wife is a merciless bitch.”

He sighed. “Yeah. I’m lucky she fell for me.”

“You did go immediately after her. I still had blood stains in the backseat of the Corolla before I sold it.” The epic love story of Potter and Lily Evans would have gained no traction if (a) Lily hadn’t fallen out of a window at Alice Longbottom’s apartment, (b) Potter had immediately jumped after her, and (c) Siri had driven the two assholes to the ER before they died. 

“Well, blood sacrifices…” he waved his hand and then took a sip of his coffee. “You should try it.”

  
  
  


**[Let the drones ring to the sound of doom, 21k]**

Never let it be said that the Black Shuck (and Siri) did not cater to her patrons. Technically, Viking-inspired death rock was not normal St Paddy’s fare… but all the leprechauns in attendance didn’t seem to notice. 

_A bunch of dwarves and a wizard showed up at my apartment. They told me I'm going with them on an adventure to a mountain with a dragon_ , came through at about 2AM.

_Just FYI, do not meddle in the affairs of wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger._

  
  
  


**[you gonna double down on that antitrans shit jk rowling?, Followers: 856k]**

Sometime around June, Remus could only get into Black Shuck when Siri finally saw him on the sidewalk. Sort of. The line for the bar stretched down the block finally reaching a point where it tapered down to tourists waiting for the hop-on hop-off. 

The place was chaos. Though a fairly well-organized one once you got inside. It _was_ the City. Siri popped open the bar and let Remus behind. “What is going on?” he asked, keeping to the corner where Siri put him. Tucked between the bourbon and clean glasses.

“Some serious bullshit, my friend.” Evans said. “Can you pass over… five of those?” She motioned towards the phalanx of PBR on the bar. 

The building was shaking with the Dillinger Escape Plan: _in the air we tried to be but you shot your arrow through me._

“Did you… break up with someone?” He asked, super cute preppy in his Geoffrey Zakarian glasses, taking the coffee jar Siri handed him. “I thought you said you were going to wait after…”

“This was really sudden,” she was angrily exchanging cash for PBRs. “Are you familiar with Neville Longbottom?”

“The movie with the noseless guy?” He looked perplexed, but shoved a $5 in the can when she palmed it to him. 

JK Rowling’s Neville Longbottom series had been Siri’s life. It had been her balm to a shit childhood that we’ll just hand wave. In Neville’s world anything was possible. Werewolves, vilified by the wizarding world, came to Hogwarts. Boys learned to shapeshift in secret rooms. Girls polyjuiced themselves into cats for a semester. The headmaster was, per the author, gay. 

But there was no place for people like Siri. 

“So, it wasn’t enough to outright question the legitimacy of one of the most vulnerable communities,” Siri said, shoveling ice into the hot pint glasses fresh from the dishwasher. “But she seriously _doubled down_ in that shit.” Siri paused to free loose hair out of her left eyelash. “The villain of her next novel is some dude who pretends to be a woman to kill people.”

“I’m sorry, Siri.”

“I’m sorry to dump that on you after taking you hostage.” She knew her smile was more rueful than pleased, pushing up the three-quarter sleeves of her pink and blue knit dress. “Do you want a soda and lime?”

“Yeah, sure. That would be great.” Her smile softened a little as her hands performed the familiar task. Ice, soda, lime.

“It’s okay to dump.” Remus said, quickly, with a strangely intense look. He paused and then, “I like you… I like when you say things. To me.” 

Siri stood there shooting soda over her feet while Remus flustered. “I like you, too.”

“Through your music,” he said almost at the same time. “I’m always listening. To you. You should keep talking.”

Siri was grateful for the heat as a cover for her burning cheeks. Remus _liked_ her. “I...will.” And then, “Fuck!” at the state of her suede slingbacks.

  
  
  


**[Siri Black’s Sad Sack Gay Pining Mix, Followers: 1]**

The worst thing of all happened on November 1. Siri woke up. Ha. While that was horrible in and of itself, she performed her sacrifice to old age before getting ready for the bar. Closing and opening completely sucked. She cursed the (impending) grave of James Potter. Or Petey. Her ire really didn’t have a preference.

Bodega coffee and those crack powder sugar donuts later, she was thumbing through her phone at the station thanking the MTA for new wifi - before she was cursing it. Siri Black’s Sad Sack Gay Mix had… 1 follower. “Who the fuck…?” She looked down the platform as if the mysterious subscriber was there. “How?”

It wasn’t like every song was labelled I LIKE REMUS LUPIN, but still. 

Thumbing to White Town’s _Your Woman_ outside the Black Shuck, she opened the security gate and keyed into the building. Petey (Dracula) and Marlene (Steve from Stranger Things) had done a good job on closing and it was just a matter of bringing down chairs, etc. 

At 11:05 AM, Remus came through the front door. He had a bag of donuts and those glasses.

The playlist cycled to _the first time ever I saw your face._

“What is the playlist du jour?” Remus asked, taking a seat at the bar. Pulling the strap of his bag over his head moved the collar of his button-down and gave the smallest peek of the red of moon phases on his neck.

“Well,” she dropped a napkin on the bartop before putting together his soda and lime. “In this dry stretch between All Hallows and the birth of Christ, I’ve gone for something a bit uplifting.”

“So we are no longer kissing the Go-goat?” His smile was a killer and, as she’d recently realized, more customized. He ripped open the bag to share his wares. She picked out a lemon basil.

“Papa Emeritus III, _requiescat in pace_ ,” she paused. The Halloween crowd had been pushed out at 3am, leaving the holiday detritus: sticky fake webbing, an animatronic Frankenstein that some guy in Jersey brought, and a line of pumpkins long past their prime. Who could tell Haz not to carve on October 1? Certainly not Siri Black. Siri had spent the night before pretending she was not one step from hypothermia as a part of the Sunnydale Varsity Cheerleading team. “I’m doing my best to fight X-mas,” she said it just like that, popping out the X. 

“SantaCon--” Siri hurried to put her pointer finger over his mouth, lips curving into a smile as she held it there for just a beat longer than necessary.

“You’ll curse us. We had to rent a pressure washer to clean off all the piss from those filthy beasts.” Petey had also threatened to quit - even though he was a co-owner - at the state of their small, cramped toilet. No one looked forward to roving bands of Santas in search of an open stall. 

“I remember,” he selected a cinnamon sugar for himself. “So what time do you get off?” Odd.

“Usually when Haz blows through the door. Why?”

“I want to ask you out, but I also don’t want to be that creep who hits on people at work.” Cue Siri’s mouth drop, quickly hidden behind her hand because donut.

“Remus.” 

“I _think_ I’m reading this right?” His voice went up at the end. “And it’s cool if you don’t want to. But I’m hoping that my resume speaks for itself.” 

Swallowing hard, she gripped the counter until her hands were white. “So,” her voice had dropped though they were alone. “You know I’m trans, right?” She was pretty sure he did, it wasn’t like she hid it. But they’d never talked about it. “I have a dick.”

“Thanks for trusting me,” he paused, completely sincere. “I do, too, if that’s a deal breaker.”

It took Siri a while to process all the feelings, some of which would have to be unpacked later. “No, it’s not a deal breaker at all.” She twirled the end of her hair, loose today, nervously. “You’re sure?”

“I really like you.”

“I really like you, too.” Her hand crawled over, carefully, to loop their pinkies together. 

“I’m going to ask you to go ice skating with me at Rockefeller Plaza.”

“Fuck no.” Remus started laughing at Siri’s disgust.

“How about the Winter Market at Union Square?”

“Maaaaybe,” she broke off a piece of her donut and swallowed it before adding, “But you’ll have to hold my hand. Otherwise we’ll get separated.” 

“I can do that.”

And he did.

  
  
  


**[Remus Lupin’s absolutely in love with Siri Black mix, Followers: 2]**

“God, what are we listening to?” Evans said, muscling a basket of clean glasses to the bar. The post-Justice of the Peace paperwork party was a small affair at the Black Shuck. 

If you considered the fact that 90% of New York knew Siri Black was a small affair. 

“It’s always this emo shit. Where are the Parquet Courts? The Strokes?” 

“Oh, this?” Remus said, taking a sip of his soda and lime. “This is a playlist I found. I think it’s called,” he pretended to look at the speaker, “Siri Black’s Sad Sack Gay Pining mix.”

Siri’s soul left her body.

But also changed the music.

**Author's Note:**

> I just can't with JK Rowling these days (though my OTP will always be Remus and Sirius). 
> 
> I wish I'd had time to make the playlist(s)! I did listen to a lot of this: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4OL4KprEE2LdqMbWQhiXGm?si=n9h2P_aLS4SkEsVT8RVyIw. So check it out.
> 
> The tattoo parlor is where I got my tattoo the last time I was in the City. I am neither a tattoo artist nor a bar owner, so many liberties have been taken.


End file.
